Lilah (24 page)

I also learned of potions for healing burns.
Lewis had let me heal animals using techniques I did not know existed. For
example, if I healed an animal while the palm of my other hand rested on the
tall trees I could generate even more healing power, taking strength from nature.
The forests were full of cures and secrets.

Though Lewis and I spent much time together our
relationship remained formal as a tutor with his pupil. His aloofness did not
allow for any chance of friendship. Without the companionship of Gabriel, the castle
seemed empty. The other witches seemed ignorant and bewitched by their
extravagant surrounds, perhaps too young in this house to really understand who
they were and what they could become. They had come from poverty and were happy
being garbed in silks and fed food they no longer had to beg for. Lewis said
that most harboured the desire to be strigoi rather than healers and he did not
comment further on the subject; nor did I ask. I wondered how much they knew,
and suspected that their ignorance of their own kind would not give them the
choices that I had with my recently acquired knowledge.

My plan was to finish my apprenticeship with
Lewis then try and forget my strigoi past. Though grateful for the learning I
was equally fearful. I would heal the sick on the streets and perhaps even work
for a town apothecary where my healing practices could be disguised or
legitimised.

I retrieved a volume that had caught my eye,
unaware that Lewis had been sitting in a chair in the corner watching me.
Strigoi were stealthy and fast so I had no idea how long he had been there. I
reddened.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said pulling the book behind me.
‘I know I am not supposed to be here now. I will go.’

‘You won’t find the answers there. There is
nothing you can do.’

‘What do you mean?’ I enquired.

‘Please don’t take me for a fool.’

My face further flushed like a guilty child.

‘There is nothing you can do for Arianne.’

He reached for the book and brushed dust from
its cover. The letters were penned with gold consisting of strokes and dashes
;
an elaborate mix of symbols. Amongst these letters was the
symbol of three sinuous strokes indicating wind. I had learnt enough to know
what it said. These were from volumes on the higher shelves. Books I had been
asked not to read. The letters on the book spelt
Reversal
.

‘You want this book?’ He scoffed. ‘So that you
may return Arianne to her former human herself?’

‘Is that not what the book is about?’

‘Yes, but it has never been done before, not
successfully anyway.’

‘Perhaps for Claude.’

‘You will kill him if you try. Even the most
experienced strigoi have never succeeded with these spells and potions. There
is too much to learn, and there are things in here that even I do not
understand.’

‘Then you are not trying hard enough and you
are not the experimentalist you claim to be.’ I could not resist. I had bitten
my tongue for too long.

His lip curled inwards with anger. I had seen
this before when he became frustrated with other witches. Sometimes he would
explode and tell them to leave, other times he would send them to their rooms
without meals.

We were interrupted by noisy laughter and
scuffles in the entrance hall from several of the newest witches who came back
from a jaunt in the town. I followed Lewis to meet them. They smelled of beer
and the women giggled stupidly with necklines too low. This particular group
had already been warned by Lewis to stay away from the towns for anything but
to observe, and they had been gone for several days spending the
gold which
was only meant to buy their clothes. Lewis
scolded them for their dishevelled appearance, and I noticed that one or two
seemed to find instant sobriety, their faces solemn, while others seemed not to
care.

Lewis bellowed: ‘You know the rules about
entering the town during daylight and drawing attention.’

One of the male witches sniggered. I could feel
the air get so cold around me, fearing we would all turn to ice. Several chairs
lifted into the air and with trepidation we watched them circle above us.

‘Lewis,’ I whispered cautiously.

Then chairs flew at the witches knocking
several
unconscious
. One of the witches, a young
female, her brassy red satin armpits stained with sweat from her sojourn, was
hit with such force her neck was snapped. Others stood up shakily only to be
hit again. Lewis was fixed on his task, controlling each item to aim perfectly
at its target.

A male witch stood up to apologise but was
slammed against the wall. I heard the crack of his skull and he slid down the
wall, blood trickling from his mouth.

I did not like that they had broken the rules
but this was too much to bear. I shouted to Lewis to stop and he looked at me
so fiercely I expected that it was my turn next to receive his wrath. Instead,
the force in the air subsided and the furniture smashed to the floor. He
surveyed the damage with detachment.

Whether he sent a calling or whether they came
instinctively, several strigoi materialised from their rooms to carry the
broken bodies – dead or otherwise – outside to deal with quickly
while others, lucky enough to remain unscathed, stood terrified, quivering or
wailing.

‘This is a privilege, not a given. There will
be further consequences for any others who enter a tavern
without
permission.’ Those still standing were roughly shoved back to their rooms no doubt
to lick their wounded pride.

I was left slightly shaken by the spectacle.
Lewis had always been foreboding but seeing his punishments firsthand left me
sickened. I could not hide it in my face.

‘It is these who will bring about our downfall
yet again. I cannot allow it to happen not after all I have been building. They
are ungrateful unruly creatures.’

‘It is but a first offense…’

‘You do not understand, Lilah,’ he said in a
much calmer tone now. ‘Such punishment is the only way to teach. Do not think
that they are all like you, or share your goodwill of others. There must be
order and there must be control. I have been generous and they have abused it.’

The witches were enchanted by their newfound
status within these walls and had come here willingly yet I wondered then if
this were not a prison after all. They had embraced the opportunity and must
endure the rules as well. And despite this event, I was right to suspect that
those injured witches would still prefer to stay here off the streets with their
acquired taste for finery. Was I perhaps the only one who had harboured
thoughts of leaving? I decided to investigate then what happened to others who
had left in the years before me.

Late that night I sought out Irene. I knew that
her mother had worked here before her and that she had known little else
outside the castle walls. We had been forced together and formed a close bond.

I found her below the stairs of the galley. Her
room though small was still larger than the one I had shared at Emil’s. She was
wary to see me so far from the safety of my room, her long woolly hair free and
wild about her face. I realised how
her own
life must
feel like it was hanging in the balance living among the strigoi. Who was to
say that one would not slip and lose control with hunger and come secretly to
the servants’
rooms.

I asked her if any witches ever left here. She
thought about it for a second but shook her head.

‘Do they all become strigoi?’

She shook her head again biting her lip.

‘Please tell me,’ I begged.

‘It is probably best you be shown.’

She reached for my candle and I followed her
through a large wooden door to cross a stone courtyard before reaching another
door. With a key she opened the door and we were outside the castle walls where
a small patch of lawn extended to the forest.

We walked a short way through the forest under
the light of a partial moon.

‘Follow me,’ she urged.

We were both in our nightdresses and slippers.
Wolves howled from the distant hills and, with her free hand, Irene shielded
her fire torch from an icy northern wind. For several minutes we tramped
through snow before she stopped. She adjusted my shawl around me and viewed me
cautiously. I was about to question her when she raised her arm up high to
light the area around our feet. We stood in a small clearing surrounded by a
low
stone wall
.

‘The stones are here to lock the spell so they
can never be resurrected.’

‘Irene,’ I said. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘The witches you asked about are beneath us?’

‘What are you saying?’ I was slightly
frustrated and wanting to return to the warmth of my bed. Even with my insomnia
it was better than here in the dark surrounded by beasts, or perhaps even
strigoi hunters, undiscerning with their choice of worthy or unworthy prey.

‘We are standing on them.’

‘You mean they are buried here.’

She nodded.

‘Were they killed?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Why?’

She lowered her eyes. ‘They refused
the
change
.’

 ‘Who killed them?’

She did not answer this time, looking fearfully
back towards the castle. A turret room high above all others overlooked the
surrounds from every window. The light within showed the silhouette of a tall
man pass by its drawn curtains.

I did not need to hear the name. It dawned in
that moment that I might never be free.

Chapter 12

Gabriel

After an extended respite, I found
the courage to visit the castle with the intention of speaking with Lilah,
hoping once more to resume our friendship. I made an excuse to Arianne that I
needed to pay my belated respects to Lewis. It was because of his magic that
she now had immortality, a privilege usually only offered to those of our
blood.

‘I’m sure anyone could perform such an act,’
she pouted. ‘They just need to learn how.’

I took my leave, relieved to have some space
between us for her attentions were at times suffocating. Our nights together
were nothing short of wonderful but those demands too had been wearing thin
lately and I found myself craving other adventures outside the confining walls
of our nest.

I knocked on Lilah’s door. There was no answer
so I opened it.

She was sitting in a chair by the fire. She had
fallen asleep reading. I noticed that it was not a book from the library but a
book of Christian prayer. I wondered then how she came to own such a thing.
Lewis would have had it burnt. Only books on our craft were allowed in the
castle.

I sat beside her. Her head rested in her hands
and her dark hair fell loosely over one shoulder. Her lips parted ever so
slightly, breathing deeply, and it was the most at peace I had ever seen her. I
had the strange feeling that peace was what she craved more than anything and I
came to the guilty realisation that I had failed her by bringing her here.

She woke with a gasp.

‘What do you want?’ she said standing up
quickly, her book falling to the floor. I bent to retrieve it but she pushed my
hand away.

Pulling a shawl around herself she sat back
down. I wanted desperately to close the rift between us, to melt the frosty
air, but instead I stood silently failing to find the words that could explain
my actions.

‘Where’s your cane?’ she asked to break the
silence, but there was no disguising the hurt in her voice.

‘Someone else needed it more. Lilah…’

‘Just leave,’ she said. ‘Nothing you say will
fix this.’

‘It wasn’t my choice...’

‘You could have stopped it.’

Silence followed as I assessed her words. She
was right: I could have prevented
the change,
but not the obsession with
Arianne.

‘How is Arianne?’

‘She is better than when you last saw her. She
is normal.’

‘Normal?’ she said with a touch of cynicism.
‘You are fallen angels. The skills of the strigoi are not a gift. They are
punishment from God so that you may never rise to glory.’

I knew this day was coming, and though ready
for the eventual condemnation, it still shocked me to hear such hate-filled
words from her lips.

‘We are not so different.’

‘We are so very different,’ she said her voice
raised and brittle.

It was not the time to preach that we were of
the same blood that it was the drinking of blood that would make us exactly the
same.

‘I’m sorry about Claude.’

I saw her shoulders tremble and knew that this
had hurt her.

She turned then, her face in tears. ‘You know
what hurts the most. She knew Claude. Why him?’